Unleashed
by Dark Unicorn Lurking
Summary: Rikash Salmalín has been taken as a slave to Maren. His life for the past year has been pain, torture, & working for the Maren king. Now a plot to rescue him has been hatched and is slowly unfolding. But the risks are high & even he may not be willing to.
1. Slave

A/N: Welcome all to the dreadful or brilliant ramblings of my depressed mind. THis story is about an enslaved Rikash Salmalín who is fighting for his escape and is aided by someone undisclosed at this time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the Maren king, what Rikash looks like and acts like, and my mystery woman! maniacal laughter The rest belongs to the brilliant Tamora Pierce.

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Chapter 1: Slave

"Are you willing to die for that belief?"

The words rung in the ears of Rikash Salmalín as he lay on the icy floor of the Marenite palace. Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself back to his feet to stare at the king of Maren, loathing in his storm-grey eyes. He slowly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, flinging it down to mar the polished floor. "I am willing." His reply was made with every ounce of stubbornness that he had inherited from his parents.

King Orlad met his gaze, causing Rikash to wince. The king's eyes were crazed and filled with anger, something Rikash should have known better to provoke. The snap of fingers echoed in the frigid air and then the whistle of a whip. Pain flared once more across Rikash's back and stars danced in his eyes. He winced as he sat up, his back one solid, burning ache.

"You are worth no more than your Tortallian blood," The king hissed, snapping his fingers again. This time, the slave collar on Rikash's neck burned his skin and the stench of burning flesh filled the chamber. "Then I am worth more than you," Rikash declared, wiping sweat-soaked smoke-black hair out of his eyes. He then spat at the king's feet, knowing what the punishment was. If he had not been a Shape-Shifter, Orlad would have killed him long ago.

"Get him out of my presence!" As Orlad commanded, guards came forward to drag Rikash back to his grubby slave quarters. With a snarl, he shook them off and stalked out of the hall, head held high. "Oh, by the way, your sister is dead." Rikash froze, spinning slowly on the spot to lock eyes with the mad king.

"What did you say?" Despite the fact that Rikash was a slave and he was addressing the king, his tone was threatening. His eyes were narrowed, pupils slit-like. "I said, your sister is dead. We killed her as she tried to enter the country….Funny, she thought she could rescue you."

Something snapped inside him and his form shifted into that of a lion. With a roar, he lunged at the king, sharp teeth aimed for Orlad's throat. The collar suddenly tightened, burning into his mane and cutting off his air. He fell, mid-leap, losing control on his form and gasping for air. There was one thing he was grateful for: unlike his mother, Rikash kept his clothes when he shape shifted, something that had saved a lot of embarrassment.

The collar gave one more painful squeeze, making his throat burn, and then loosened. Blood trickled from underneath the collar, a warm snake that flowed down his chest. "You should know better, Rikash. I own you now. If you kill me, the spell that binds your life force to mine will kill you." Orlad laughed, clapped his hands, and watched Rikash be dragged out of the throne hall.

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In the corner of the hall, a servant dusted some paintings. Her long black hair was tucked into a bun while her pale skin seemed to radiate in the mage lights. She paused, watching the guards pull Rikash out of the hall, her green eyes glinting with rage. On the inside of her wrist, a small tattoo of a snarling tiger graced the pale skin. The servant pulled the covering over a portrait and disappeared, following the path that the guards and Rikash had taken. A dark green light graced the tips of her fingers as she slipped down a side corridor, whispering urgently to the tiny ball of flames that sat in the palm of her hand.

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A/N: Go on, flame or exalt. Just press the little button! 


	2. Temper?

A/N: Wow, it's been over two months since I first wrote this story and posted the very first chapter. I'm happy to say that this second chapter is long and more confusing. Line breaks will indicate the changing of the points of view which i do quite alot this chapter...hmmmph.

**Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognize I own...the rest belongs to the goddess of writing, Tamora Pierce**

_Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my bestest buddy in the whole entire world--Purple Eyed Cat. We've been through it all and you're my pillar of strength and sanity...when I want sanity that is :) _

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**Chapter 2: Tempers**

Rikash sat on his cot in the slave quarters, watching the others that lived with him. Many, mostly the men, had fresh whip wounds on their backs while the women just had new bruises. The rage—just a dull hum now—roared into life as a new woman got thrown into the quarters and landed a few feet away from him. She wore a maid's clothing and no slave collar encircled her neck. Despite that, her back was bloody and as she looked up, the light revealed her face to be covered in bruises.

To Rikash's disgust, many of the other slaves drew back, afraid of incurring the wrath of the guards for helping this new woman. He got up, wincing as the fresh whip cuts opened again, and then kneeled by the woman's head. He caught the sheen of her black-brown hair and the angry glint of her black eyes before a bubble of blue-green Gift exploded around her, throwing Rikash against a wall.

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She got to her feet, glaring angrily at the cringing slaves. She then turned and gazed coolly at a dazed Rikash who was slumped against the wall. With some amusement, she spotted the slow trickle of blood oozing its way down from his temple. Then her eyes narrowed, calling on her ability to spot magic. An angry hiss escaped the woman's mouth as she recognized the copper glow and the features of the man.

"Rikash," She called and—after five minutes—finally lost what little patience she had and slapped him hard across the face. He groaned and opened his eyes, his storm-blue eyes unfocused. She watched as they sharpened and focused on her. A gasp escaped him, causing a small grin to flicker across her face.

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"Inari," He hissed, his anger bubbling. "I hope you know that you have probably ruined my beautiful face by your magic." He watched a smile flit across her face and had to grin himself. He watched the young woman, recalling everything he knew about her. She was Lady Knight Inari of Queenscove, the eldest sibling of Rikash's secret crush—Amaya of Queenscove and the Shang Tigress.

"It's good to see you," he murmured, wincing at the exhaustion in his own voice. She hushed him, letting a blue-green light float over her fingers. "You mustn't call me Inari here," She whispered as she leaned forward to heal his temple wound and burn out the last traces of his dizziness. "I am Mura here, a simple peasant maid with the Gift from Oakshire in Maren. I have no siblings and my parents were killed by bandits about three years ago."

"Very well…Mura," Rikash replied, a bitterness in his voice and eyes as he looked at the well-kept Tortallian. Despite her recent injuries, Inari or Mura, was well-fed and bore no other marks except faded battle wounds. The Lady Knight laughed at his bitterness, her black gaze amused. A spark ignited in Rikash's dull eyes as he glared at Mura.

"What got you thrown into the slave quarters?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes at her. She froze mid-laugh and Rikash resisted the warning bells in his head telling him to get away from her now. Inari had always been the more temperamental of the Queenscove children and her anger had the tendency to be deadly. He drew in a huge gulp of air as her black eyes narrowed to slits and the air around her became icy cold. "That is none of your business, slave." She snapped, getting quickly to her feet and spinning away from a startled Rikash. Her black gaze landed on the staring slaves and she snarled, a blue-green flame collecting in her palm. "What are you staring at?" She hissed, going into a corner and throwing a shield up around her that was opaque.

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Daine Sarrasri Salmalín, resident wildmage of Tortall, was staring stonily at man in front of her, her stormy eyes filled with a dull pain and anger. King Jonathan of Conté stared back, waiting for the tidal wave that would be the Wildmage's temper. As the slender woman calmly picked up a vase and chucked it at his head, he dodged it with a practiced ease. Black fire picked with bits of white surrounded the vase and returned it to its original spot, making Daine spin and glare at her husband. The black robe mage, Numair Salmalín, glared back at her, calmly waiting for the shift in Daine's temper.

The two men watched as the fight left Daine, leaving her sobbing in her chair. Numair knelt, warily placing his arms around her shaking frame. With a glance at the king, Numair stood—cradling Daine in his arms—and left the room, leaving Jonathan to stare blankly at the closed door. He glanced down once more at the report that was flattened under his hands, sighing with an inward pain.

They had lost Rikash Salmalín just over a year ago and now this report had arrived, announcing the death of the other Salmalín child, Sarralyn. Tortall knew that Rikash was not dead but they had not been able to locate him since the last Beltane. They were also missing to of the Queenscove children—Inari a Lady Knight of the Realm and her sister, Amaya also known as the Shang Tigress.

Trouble was afoot, so plain that a blind man could see it. The problem was that no one knew where three of the four young people were and who would disappear next. A knock on the door sounded, bringing King Jonathan out of his reverie. "Come in," He sighed, straightening his tunic and trying to dispel some of the weariness that hung around him like a cloak.

The door opened, revealing an astonishingly beautiful woman and a young knight. Jonathan stood, striding around the desk to embrace his wife and momentarily ignoring the knight. As Queen Thayet of Conté cleared her throat, Jon stepped back and acknowledged the knight. "Thank you for coming, Sir Ryu of Queenscove," Jonathan said, sitting down and then motioning for Thayet and Ryu to do the same.

Jonathan made a steeple of his fingers, scanning the features of Ryu. The young knight was well muscled with brown hair and lively black-green eyes. He looked nothing like his twin, Inari, and possessed none of her temper. He would take the news of Inari's disappearance and of Sarralyn's death much better than Daine had—something that made Jon very happy.

With a sigh and a clearing of his throat, King Jonathan spoke. "Sir Ryu, I regret to inform you that your sister, the Lady Knight Inari, has disappeared. We have reason to believe that she was tracking your other sister, the Lady Amaya, and the shapeshifter, Rikash Salmalín."

As Jonathan paused he watched the emotions flicker through the knight's eyes. Ryu was obviously angry and hurt but he hid it well, only bowing his head with grief. Jonathan cleared his throat again, knowing that the absolute loss of one of Ryu's friends was going to wound the knight deeply. "Also, I regret to inform you that Sarralyn Salmalín is dead."

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Ryu's head snapped up, his overbright eyes searching Jon's. The disappearance of his twin hurt him but the death of Sarralyn? He could almost feel his heart breaking. He knew that they would have been nothing more than friends for all his daydreams. But now he regretted that he had never told her how he had felt. Seeing the King looking at him, Ryu cleared his throat. "Your Majesties, if you'll excuse me," He murmured, getting to his feet and bowing. He then spun and swiftly left the King's study, waiting until the door was closed before he started running.

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	3. Hawk

A/N: Welcome to chapter 3...those of you who read this that is. Which obviously is alot of people but only one review...le sigh

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is Tamora's...everything else ain't...**

_Disclaimer: TO MY SINGLE REVIEWER: PURPLE EYED CAT and to my rock of strength at retreat: Alexandra_

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**Chapter 3: Hawk**

The Lady Amaya of Queenscove also known as the Shang Tigress moved swiftly away from the throne room. Her green eyes were worried and angry, snapping with barely contained fury. The dark green flame of her Gift sat comfortably in the palm of her hand as she whispered quickly into it. The wavering image of a young man with short, dark gold hair and unusual molten gold eyes filled the magical flame.

"Rikash is a slave in Maren," Amaya hissed, pushing tendrils of black hair out of her face. She watched as the man's eyes widened in shock and he scribbled something quickly. "King Orlad has a magical spell woven into his slave collar that binds Rikash's life force to his own. If we kill the king, Rikash will die and vice verse."

She grinned as the muttered curses from the man came through the flame. "Get that information to Daine Salmalín and King Jonathan as soon as possible." The man nodded and started muttering the familiar ending spell. "Shae!" Amaya hissed, motioning for him to stop. "Don't tell either of them where you got your information from. I'm not in the mood for any letters from angry kings and wildmages." She grinned and then muttered, "So mote it be," and thus effectively ending her speech spell.

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Shae Riversend also known as Hawk to the Court of the Rogue, finished writing Amaya's information down then sat back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He should have known that Amaya would eventually find Rikash but he had been hopeful that Rikash would not be found. The Shapeshifter was Shae's rival in winning the heart of the beautiful Shang. Shaking his head, Shae got to his feet and left his rooms at the Dancing Dove, saddling his horse and riding for the palace. 

His horse, a beautiful black mare known as Silk, dodged easily through the crowded Corus marketplace, her hooves closing the distance to the palace quickly. He quickly passed the inspections at the gates to the palace and clattered up to the stables where another of the rogue's allies lived. "Stefan!" He called, dismounting Silk with practiced ease. As a blonde head popped up from the hayloft, Shae waved his hand. Stefan narrowed his eyes, making Shae grin despite himself.

"What are ye up t' now?" Stefan asked as he descended from the hay and came to stroke Silk's head. "Ye wore this poor lil' lady out." Hawk grinned at the hostler, quickly unsaddling the black mare. He groomed Silk just as quickly then pulled a small role of parchment out of his saddlebags. "I have information concerning Rikash Salmalín," Rikash said, a small grin flitting across his face. With a mocking bow to the hostler, Hawk spun and sprinted quickly towards the door that marked the living quarters of Baron George Cooper and Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop.

Skidding to a stop outside the room, he caught his breath then used the formal spy's knock to announce his arrival to the Spymaster. Despite being a rogue, Shae Riversend was a well-paid spy for the Whisper Man. The door opened, admitting Hawk into the room. Hawk glanced at the door holder and winced, seeing the brown hair and green eyes of Duke Nealan of Queenscove. With an inward wincing thought of the pain that would be inflicted upon him if Neal found out whom Hawk's informant was, Hawk stepped into the room.

Molten gold eyes met the hazel-green ones of the Spymaster and Hawk raised an eyebrow. He bowed slightly to the three other occupants of the room: Baron George Cooper, Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, and Duchess Yukimi of Queenscove. As Duke Neal sat down, the baron folded his hands. "What do you have for me, Shae Riversend?" He inquired, noting the subdued but gleeful look in the spy's unusual gaze.

The spy cleared his throat, resisting the urge to wring his hands. "I have information on the whereabouts of a certain Rikash Salmalín." Upon his words, the room exploded in shouts of disbelief. As Hawk opened his mouth to continue, The Whisper Man held up his hand.

"Before you say anymore, I believe we will need the King, the Wildmage and Numair." He rang for a servant and requested the people he had listed be brought to him immediately. Within less than ten minutes, the requested people plus a certain Myles of Olau entered the room. "The servant said you have information that you need to share with us," The king commented, sitting down with a sigh and propping his chin on his hands.

His blue eyes were weary and shadowed and the white lines in his hair appeared even more numerous than before. The lines that marked his handsome face were more prominent, framing his sensual mouth and serious eyes. "And please tell me it's good news," He said, lifting his chin from his hands and seeming to notice Hawk for the first time.

Hawk watched with amusement as the King sent a questioning glance at his Spymaster who only gave a shrug in return. "Your Majesty, I would like you to meet Shae Riversend more commonly known as Hawk in the Court of the Rogue and one of my more loyal spies." Hawk bowed low, not meeting the King's piercing gaze. Jonathan inclined his head in return then thoughtfully looked at the commoner's gold hair and eyes.

"Well, Shae Riversend," The King stated, sighing and shifting into a more comfortable position. "What news do you bring me?" Meeting Jonathan's gaze, Hawk cleared his throat. "I learned from a….friend of mine located in Maren that Rikash Salmalín is currently a slave employed to the King, Orlad." Once again, Hawk watched as disbelief and hope filled many of the gazes.

A hint of sadness entered his golden orbs as he watched their relief with shadowed eyes. "If you kill Orlad," Hawk said quietly, bowing his head, "You kill Rikash. My informant told me that Rikash is wearing a slave collar that binds his life-force to Orlad." The looks of relief faded to anger and despair at those words. Hawk cleared his throat uncomfortably as Daine Salmalín's hopeful expression crumbled into tears.

The king sighed, resting his forehead in his palms. "I believe, Numair," Jon murmured, voice muffled by his hands, "that you need to research this spell and find a counter-spell for it. Until then, we do nothing."

The king raised his head, locking dull eyes with Hawk. "Who is your informant, Hawk?" The king inquired, rubbing his temples in circular motions. "If they have the power to help us in some other way, we need to know."

Loyalty to both the King and Amaya tore at his heart, making Hawk groan. "Sire, she'll kill me if I tell. I mean, kill me dead and leave me for the ghosts." Hawk watched Neal's eyebrow rise and almost choked as the Duke murmured, "That sounds like something Amaya would say."

Noting Hawk's expression, George put in his dry word, "Is there something you aren't tellin' us lad?" Hawk sighed, raising a pleading gaze to the ceiling. "Great Mother Goddess, save me from both of them," He murmured before looking at Neal. "It is Amaya, your grace."

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